a Meister and her Weapon
by xIrelandx
Summary: UPDATED: Formatting issues fixed! / Written as a Soul/Maka entry for the 30 Day OTP challenge. Yeah yeah yeah, I have a lot of these to do, to catch up on. I'm aiming to go through with all my OTPs so...bear with me here.
1. Chapter 1

They hold hands more often than is, strictly speaking, necessary. It's something Soul's just started to notice since Russia, since the Madness and the Black Blood started to get really bad. It's Maka's way of reeling him in, of keeping him down to Earth and grounded in reality. He's more suceptible to it, like Stein is, and he has to wonder if that's the real reason he keeps Marie and Spirit with him. They all know he can work without a weapon, and so it's confusing when he chooses not to.

It's when she holds out her hand to him that he notices. She does this a lot, really, offering herself up. Sure, they hold hands as they go into battle, perhaps because it's convenient, but it still isn't necessary. Even less so here, where they're only meant to be observing for now. Normally it's a demand; she throws her hand out, and he accepts it. But when he takes it now and lets their fingers fall into the slots that separate their own digits from each other, he feels different. Maka is vibrating, with anxiety and anger and something else he can't quite place.

It occurs to him now that he loves her. It occurs to him now that not just anybody gets to hold her hand. He should be happy about that, he thinks. But it's hard to be comforted, to consider himself special in that respect when friendliness and caring are just part of who Maka is. When it dawns on him again that he'll always have to share this spot with Crona. And he really doesn't think he's prepared for that.

When they're back from their latest mission, from checking out this latest threat, they're granted - or punished with - down time. They always spend it the same way: tending to injuries, catching up on missed schoolwork, getting reacquainted with domesticity. It's nice, it's peaceful, it's relaxing, and it's misleading. Soul doesn't think they'll ever have a normal life, one that's free from danger, where they really can just worry about the petty things like who's turn it is to make dinner. It happens to be Maka's turn, tonight, but he's still helping, washing dishes and observing her from the corner of his eyes. It's a good thing, he reckons, that she doesn't want to get married or become a mother, because she'd never really get the chance with this life they lead. And it's also a shame, he thinks as he looks away, because she'd be really good at it.

Tsubaki's the same way, except those are things she wants in her life, things she's somehow managed to achieve with Black*Star and Angela. She's practically theirs in terms of adoption, and already she's their responsibility. Black*Star's doing so much better with her than Soul would ever have imagined.

Maka finishes chopping carrots, peeling potatoes, and urges Soul to go relax while she finishes. He wants to say that it's a nice feeling, but he's still watching her. Being around her isn't addicting, he swears. It's just that even when they're alone, he can't relax. He can't calm down. He's always protecting her, whether he wants to be or not, whether he knows he is or not.

* * *

He has dreams about her, sometimes. Good dreams, bad dreams. Dreams that don't make any sense plague him, but she's always there as a guiding light. He follows her, they hold hands, and he wakes up. There's something sad, if slightly peaceful, about his waking when he does.

She grabs his hand more often now, tugging him along down the corridors of Shibusen, dragging him away from a sparring match with Black*Star. And she grips at him, too, holding back from her anger at her father and trying not to show fear when they've had a few too many close calls. She trips, his arm is a railing; she's injured, his shoulder's a crutch. He remembers her as being distant before, independent and determined to do things on her own, insisting she didn't need any help. Now she just reaches out or grabs, and he's there to take hold.

After Kid was taken, she started to cry at night. It wasn't something she knew she was doing, but Soul was pulled from his insomnia by whimpers and shouts and the ocassional scream. He didn't do anything at first, only hovering outside her bedroom door. He knew it was a catch-twenty-two: if he didn't go in and do something, then he was insensitive; if he did, then he was invading her privacy. He tried to be tender with her in the days following, put forth all the energy he could muster into keeping her safe, hoping his efforts would at least put the brakes on her nightmares.

But of course that didn't work. Why should something nice ever happen? Her screams escalated, and she started to wake herself from her nightmares by choking on her tears. It was no longer just Kid she dreamed about, but Crona. And after Crona, it was not a far leap to Soul. Soul felt Maka's screams tugging at his heart, but worst was when she feared for him. Those he felt even as he slept, rousing his soul awake.

He didn't know what he was doing, padding into Maka's room after midnight while she cried for him to wake up, to keep moving. He only barely felt the fabric of her bed as his scarred and calloused right hand covered her small and delicate left.

Maka woke, eyes wide, but Soul had fallen asleep, even crouched as he was with his forehead resting on her mattress. She wanted to wake him, to apologize for the night terrors and for making him worry. But he wouldn't let her move her hand out from under his, and coordinating any other way would just have been awkward. She merely turned her hand around, lacing her fingers together, and told herself that they could make it through 'til morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Soul never thought he could be so affectionate with anyone - even Maka. Well, especially Maka, who wasn't very touchy-feely herself. And, okay, Soul had to admit it: when he found that he liked someone, _really_ liked someone, he wasn't exactly very kind to them.

It was a defense mechanism.

But here he was during class, exhausted from their lastest escapade across the world, drifting off with his head on her shoulder. And she wasn't pushing him away or telling him to stay awake. She was scooting her chair back a bit from her desk, so she could slump back a bit, and lean further into him. His nose brushes into her neck, and he can smell her soap and see flakes of dandruff she'd be humiliated about if she knew. His face alters as her neck tilts so she can lean her head against his. His heart starts to race when she sighs softly, and he can sense the beating of her heart in her throat. He tries not to let a groan escape as his lids grow heavy and close.

* * *

It happens again when they're out with friends. They're all crowded together in a booth - Kid sitting in between Liz and Patti on the one side, Soul in the corner next to Maka. Tsubaki ends their side of the table, with Blair on the windowsill and Black Star holding court at the head.

Patti makes some stupid joke that only Black Star understands, and he laughs so hard he nearly falls into Tsubaki's lap. The chair he's sitting on breaks, and he goes to sit in Tsubaki's lap. Instead, the brunette shakes her head and scoots closer to Maka - who in turn, attempts to sit closer to Soul. And sits, instead, on his lap.

No one's noticed as of yet, but Maka's flushing down her shoulderblades. Her off-the-shoulder sleeves have rearranged themselves so that her right shoulder, the one in Soul's face, is laid completely bare. The white bra strap, prominently on display, starts to slide down her slender shoulder. She's sitting on his thigh, his left leg. Soul quickly slaps his thighs together to hide how she's managed to affect him this time, and his arm falls from the top of the booth to around her shoulder.

Which might not have been so bad, had the immediate conclusion not been for his hand to fall directly on her breast.

This is where their previously oblivious friends come in, their talk stopping for long enough to see Soul's precarious hand in all its glorious misplacement. Soul tries to look nonchalant.

"I thought most people used the disableds to do that sort of thing" Black Star comments, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Maka's left boot finds its way to Black Star's head at the same time Tsubaki's head swipes him, but the damage has already done and Maka is sliding away from him while Black Star giggles moronically.

He thinks Maka will shy away from him after the incident at the diner. But the moment Blair has left for her job, Maka situates herself onto Soul's lap.

He's already reclined with his head on one armrest and his feet on the other. He's reading through a book for school, one he's sure Maka has read a million times over. He can't recall what it's called, or even what it's about, now that Maka has decided to take residence on top of his person.

"I love this part," Maka says, pointing her finger at a seemingly random line on the page. She reads it aloud to him, and he can feel the vibrations from her lungs on his chest. It's mesmerising and dangrous. When she's done reading, her finger falls away, and Soul tries to concentrate on the book. Sometimes, she'll stop his hand as he goes to turn a page, and then turn it with him when she's done reading. He gives up after a few moments, letting her decide when to turn the page. He knows she's fallen asleep when her hand no longer wavers over his, and her breathing has become a natural even to match his forced one.

* * *

Even though Kid's back, the nightmares haven't subsided. He wonders if they ever will. Will they be thirty, still working and living together, and having him sneak into Maka's room every other night to check up on him? Mostly, he hopes not. But there is that selfish part in him that wants an excuse, any excuse, to sleep beside her.

He's a terrible person, and he hates himself for it. But Maka is the only thing he has in his life, and he's not sure he can bear to lose her - even to happiness.

Soul sighs at himself and shakes his head. That dangerous, he knows. Part of the madness that runs through his veins. He won't actually hold Maka back. If she wants or needs to move on, he won't stop her. But he's not sure he could help her. He loves her, and he loves her too much for his own good. Too much for her own good.

Maybe he really should think about leaving.

"What'cha thinking so hard about, Soul?" Blair is in his doorway, leaning so close their noses are nearly touching.

Soul shakes his head and leans back, head and back falling onto the bed. Blair doesn't seem to mind his sour attitude, prancing around to sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"If it's about Maka, you don't really need to worry. I think she's doing better now. She's been dreaming about cereal, I think. She keeps saying 'bowl, bowl' in her sleep." Soul feels his neck colouring and he tries his hardest not to look at her. "Oh my gosh!" he can almost hear the slap of skin on skin as Blair slaps a hand to her cheek. "She was saying 'Soul, Soul,' wasn't she?"

Soul turns enough to lean on his side and growl, "If you mention anything to her, I swear to God I will strangle you."

"Soul?" Maka was now stood in his doorway, one hand on her chest and the other on the frame.

"That's my cue!" Blair chirps, transforming into a cat and leaping out Soul's window onto the fire escape.

There was an awkward silence before Soul responds, "Yes, Maka?"

"Uhm, I was wondering..." she trailed off, and Soul turned back around to see her blushing, twirling one ponytail with the pointer finger of her left hand. "Would you - would you, uhm, sleep with me tonight?" She blushed, realizing how what she'd said must have sounded. "Not - not like that! I mean -"

"Yes," Soul said.

And that was it. They prepared for bed seperately, and Soul waited patiently outside Maka's door until she opened it for him. He padded inside and the two glanced oddly at one another, slightly embarrassed. She gestured toward the bed, and Soul padded over, sliding toward the wall. Maka flicked the switch to turn the light off, running into her desk as she felt for the bed. As she crawled into bed, she wasn't sure how to proceed - should she go to him first, or wait for him to make the first move?

"Turn around," he prompted softly, and Maka complied. She was starting to curse herself, thinking this idea was so stupid, when she felt Soul's arm snake around her waist. He pulled her closer, so her back touched his chest, and let his head rest on her shoulder. Tentatively, he nuzzled her, cheeks brushing. He could feel the heat and for once, he thought maybe his feelings weren't so unreciprocated.


End file.
